Painting the Roses Ruby Red
by tamarajanegreer
Summary: Maggie Rubera, a sociopathic narcissist, meets Jerome Valeska when he's brought into Arkham, and her life drastically changes. What happens when these two very dominant personalities are together for too long? HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_One Year Ago..._

 _"Millieee..."_

The call rang through the near empty house with an eerie air. It was followed by the sound of metal scraping across tile and a haunting, girlish giggle that echoed off of the walls and down the corridors. Millicent Rubera limped through the dark hallway as fast as she could, terrified. The electricity in the Rubera house had been knocked out by the storm that raged on in Gotham that night, or so Millicent had thought. She had lost her glasses some time ago; that, mixed with the dark, did not help Millicent at all.

 _"Millieee..."_ called the voice again; it was closer now.

Millicent ducked quietly into a room she knew to be her father's office. She made her way behind the chestnut desk and wedged herself into the space under the desk that was usually reserved for the leather chair. And she waited. And she prayed.

Back out in the hallway stood what — no, _who —_ Millicent was so afraid of. Margaret Rubera stood completely still, observing the hallway with her near cat-like vision; unlike her sister, Margaret could see quite well.

Thunder boomed so loudly that it rattled the windows; lightning lit up the hallway for a split second, washing over Margaret's form, making the seventeen-year-old look even more menacing than she already was. Her white gown was stained red with blood, her hair was disheveled, and she drug an axe behind her. However, the most disturbing thing about her appearance was the complete sense of calm she had about her. The corners of her lips twitched up into a smile when she saw the dark drops of blood on the white, tile floor.

"You know, Millie," Margaret started, making her way slowly down the hall, "I'm really relieved that your little tumble down the stairs didn't kill you; truly, I am."

Margaret stopped in front of the first door she came to, and without hesitation, she hoisted the axe's blade into it.

"Because I am really looking forward to killing you myself," Margaret added with a small, devilish grin as she wedged the axe out of the door.

She continued down the hall and quickly slammed the axe into the next door she came across. She pulled the axe out of the now splintered wood.

"I mean, it was so much fun the first time. Poor, little Mattie didn't understand _why_ I was doing it. Oh, Millie, you should've seen the look on her face; you should've heard her begging for her life. It was just so... Help me out here, Mills; I can't seem to find the word, and you've always been oh so good with them. Then again, you and Mattie were good at lots of things, like being conniving little _bitches_."

Margaret slammed the axe into a third door as she spoke the last word, her voice dripping with venom. She pulled the axe out of the door and moved forward. Finally, she stopped in front of the fourth door. It was ajar. Margaret pushed it open further with the butt end of the axe.

"Knock, knock. Anybody home?"

Millicent stayed as quiet as possible when she heard her sister's voice inside the room. She hardly dared to even breathe.

"Oh, I do love a good game of Hide-and-Seek, Millie," Margaret said, looking behind the door. "But let's not forget...that's one of the things I was so much better at."

Margaret made her way over to her father's desk. Walking around to the back of it, she smiled. Pulling the leather chair away, she revealed Millicent's hiding place. Margaret tutted as Millicent cowered away from her.

"Oh, Millie, how disappointing; how... _typical_. You always did pick the most obvious hiding spots. I guess some things never change," Margaret said.

"Please, Maggie," Millicent whimpered. "Please, don't do this."

Margaret's expression quickly changed. She pushed her brows together and dropped her grin. She rested on her haunches in front of her sister.

"Millie, Millie, Millie, such a beautiful face," Margaret said, reaching out to stroke her sister's cheek, but Millicent flinched away from her touch. This didn't seem to faze Margaret; she just continued with her monologue. "After all, I should know, since we have the same one."

"What do you want?" Millicent cried.

"Me?" Margaret said, pretending to ponder the question. "Well, I just want to be free. I want to be my own person. And with you and Mattie around — well — it wouldn't have happened."

Millicent cried even harder at the mention of her other — now dead — sister.

"You can understand that, can't you, Millie?" Margaret said. "You can appreciate that I'm doing this for a good reason."

"You're sick, Maggie," Millicent said.

Margaret slammed the axe's butt against the desk.

"I am so _tired_ of you _telling me_ what _I am,_ " Margaret seethed. "'Oh, Maggie, you're so antisocial. Oh, Maggie, you're so weird.'" Margaret said in a mocking voice.

"But what I hated most weren't the 'You-are's' but the 'You-would-be's,'" Margaret confessed. "What was your and Mattie's favorite thing to say to me? 'Maggie, you would be prettier if you smiled.' That was it , wasn't it?"

Margaret seemed to bristle just remembering the words that had so frequently flown from the mouths of her sisters.

"But tell me, Millie, what _exactly_ did I have to smile about? Was I supposed to smile every time someone mistook me for you or Mattie? Was I supposed to smile when even our _parents_ couldn't tell _which_ daughter I was?"

Margaret leaned forward with a menacing look.

"Was I supposed to _smile_ when I walked in on my boyfriend and Mattie all because you and her had a stupid bet that he, too, wouldn't be able to tell the difference?"

Margaret was almost yelling; spit flew from her mouth. She banged the axe against the desk again. Millicent let out another loud cry. This caused Margaret to laugh a bit. She saw Millicent eyeing the axe.

"Oh, don't worry; this isn't for you, Millie," Margaret said, caressing the axe. "No, this was Mattie's. But _you,_ " she said, looking back at her sister, "oh, I have something else in store for you."

Margaret lifted up the axe, and with one swift movement, she rammed the butt end of it into Millicent's face, knocking her out cold.

Margaret gave a tiny smile, and a small laugh escaped her. She finally discarded the axe. She unceremoniously pulled her sister's limp body out from under the desk and rolled her onto her back. Margaret hiked up her gown before straddling Millicent's body, pinning Millicent's arms under her knees just in case Millicent should wake up.

Margaret stared at her sister for a moment, cocking her head to the side curiously. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and Margaret frowned.

"Those are _my_ earrings," she said angrily before ripping the ruby studded earrings from Millicent's earlobes.

Finally, Margaret leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around her sister's neck. Margaret could feel the blood pumping in Millicent's jugular; she could feel Millicent's slow breathing. Margaret was planning on ending that.

Margaret squeezed as hard as she could, smiling the entire time.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that; she was in a sort of trance. To Margaret, it felt like an eternity — a blissful eternity. However, the sound of the front door opening shook her out of her reverie.

Her parents weren't supposed to be home for hours. Margaret had had a plan: Get cleaned up, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, and then disappear (and maybe even send a ransom note, if she was feeling spunky enough). She had already paid off a fisherman to get her the hell out of Gotham. She would have just bought a train ticket, but she didn't want to be caught on candid camera at the station. She wanted people to believe that maybe she'd been kidnapped.

"Girls! We're home!"

"Shit," Margaret muttered at the sound of her father's voice.

Margaret jumped off of her sister, content with her handy work.

"Well, it's been fun, Millie. A slight kink in the plan, but hey, at least I'll sleep easy in prison knowing that you and Mattie are gone."

Margaret let out a cackle as though she found this all rather amusing. She hardly registered her mother's scream. And even as her father had his hands around her neck, pinning her against the wall, Margaret's body was still wracking with laughter.

"You gonna kill me, Dad?" she choked out. "In case you didn't know, you're running low on daughters."

After that, she let out another awful laugh. However, it was cut short by a sudden gasp for air. Margaret stared in horror and anger as Millicent awoke. Margaret's right eye twitched.

"No!" Margaret growled, struggling against her father, trying to get to her sister. Millicent _couldn't_ be alive.


	2. Chapter 2

"Inmate B-186, step outside."

"It's been a whole year, and I'll tell you like I've told every other guard: My name isn't 'Inmate;' it's _Maggie._ Maggie Rubera."

"Inmate, get up and step outside," the guard repeated.

Maggie rolled her green eyes and jumped up from her bed.

"You know, I think I liked prison better than Arkham. This damned asylum was the worst idea anyone in Gotham ever had," she told the guard on her way out of her cell.

She stopped outside of her door and slowly turned to look at the guard who was now tearing her room apart. She rolled her eyes again. They did this every other week ever since she'd been transferred to Arkham Asylum after its miraculous reopening — they did this to _all_ the inmates to search for contraband. Well...everyone besides that Sionis guy; he paid the guards to always look the other way when it came to him.

"You're not gonna find anything," Maggie said, crossing her arms in front of her as the guard lifted her mattress to look under it.

"Quiet, Rubera," said the guard that was out in the hallway with her.

Maggie grinned, flashing her teeth for a moment.

"See, _this one_ I like; he doesn't call me 'Inmate,'" she said to the guard inside her cell.

"All clear," the guard in her room said, walking out into the hallway.

"Told you," Maggie said, sauntering back into her cell.

"Breakfast is in half an hour."

Maggie scoffed.

"I know when breakfast is, you baboon," she snapped.

The guard scowled and slammed her cell door shut before locking it. As soon as the lock clicked, a laugh rang through the corridor. Maggie arched an eyebrow and moved to the door. She peered out of the small, caged window as the guards left to hassle another inmate.

The laugh grew louder, and before she could bat an eyelash, new guards were standing in front of her cell with a new inmate in tow. The first thing Maggie noticed about him — aside from the maniacal laugh — was his hair. Red. Just like hers.

The guards hastily shoved the red haired boy into the cell across the corridor from Maggie's and locked him inside. He laughed the entire time. Maggie only stared at the door of his cell with mild curiosity. However, when the laughter died down, she became uninterested and shrugged, turning away from her door.

Maggie fell down onto her bed, it creaked under her. She wedged her hand down between the mattress and the stone wall. Feeling with her fingers, she came across a very small incision in the mattress's edge. Reaching into the mattress with only her index and middle fingers, she retrieved a Jolly Rancher. She smiled before unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. Hard candy wasn't allowed. Guards were stupid.

She stared up at the ceiling, smoothing the wrapper between her fingers, happily listening to the crinkling sound it made. And she lost herself in her thoughts. Tomorrow would be exactly one year since she'd killed her sister, Matilda, and tried to kill Millicent. Maggie frowned when she thought of how Millicent was still alive.

"It's your fault," Maggie said to herself. "You should've hacked the bitch into bits just like you did with Mattie."

Maggie had fantasized about killing her identical sisters for months before she had finally snapped. In Maggie's opinion, being a triplet was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. It had been especially difficult due to the fact that Millie and Mattie had been such good friends, often leaving her out. Of course, Maggie much preferred being by herself, but still...an invitation now and then would have been appreciated even if she did decline.

Then, there was the flaw of having two other people look exactly like her. In Maggie's mind, it was complete torture. Not a single day went by where she didn't have to tell someone which Rubera sister she was or correct them when they wrongly assumed that she was Millie or Mattie. It was maddening.

"It was only fair," Maggie said to herself. "I was born _first. I_ was the _smart_ one. Hell, I was even the _prettier_ one."

"Who exactly are you talking to?"

Maggie stopped smoothing the Jolly Rancher wrapper at the words. She often talked to herself; almost everyone else were idiots (or so that was her opinion). She had to believe it was the reason she was in Arkham. Well... _that_ and the whole sororicide thing. Maggie refused to admit that she was actually "crazy."

"Not to _you,_ Giggles," she retorted.

The laugh from before reverberated against the walls. Maggie stood and moved back to her door. She saw the red haired boy peering out of his door window. When he saw her appear at her own door window, he stopped laughing, but his wide smile remained etched into his face. She cocked her head to one side, studying him.

"So, Red, whatcha in for?" he asked.

"It's Margaret Rubera, but I prefer Maggie."

"You didn't answer my question," he said in a low voice.

Maggie sucked on the piece of candy in her mouth and took the question into consideration.

"Why are _you_ in here?" she finally said.

The boy let out a chuckle before frowning abruptly.

"I asked you _first,_ " he said, his voice now a low growl; Maggie smiled.

"Well, I asked you second," she said as though this solved the matter.

This made the boy laugh again.

"You're very pretty when you smile," he told her.

Maggie's grin faltered.

"I'm _always_ very pretty," she said, and the boy cackled yet again.

"I'm Jerome," he finally said. "Jerome Valeska."

"Jerome Valeska," Maggie repeated as though testing to see how it felt on her tongue. "Well, _Jerome,_ welcome to the Nut House," Maggie said before letting out a small laugh of her own.

"I killed Mommy Dearest," Jerome told her; Maggie nodded.

"How come?"

Jerome tutted and shook his head, wagging his finger at her.

"No, no, it's _your_ turn, Red."

Maggie scowled at him.

"It's _Maggie,_ " she said in a slow voice; she didn't like being called something other than her name. It irked her.

"Well, _Mags —_ can I call you Mags? What was it that you did, huh? Murder the family dog?" Jerome asked, and he started laughing again.

Maggie had to laugh as well.

" _One_ of them," she said. "The other bitch just wouldn't die."

"Oh, and what was the relation?" Jerome asked, smiling, knowing that they weren't actually talking about household pets.

"They were my sisters," Maggie said disdainfully. "We were identical triplets. Well, I guess I'm only a _twin_ now since it's down to me and Millie."

Jerome's grin spread further than she thought was humanly possible, but then, he frowned, seeming to think of something upsetting.

"Do you regret it?" he asked.

Maggie blinked.

"Yes," she said without hesitation; Jerome's frown deepened. Maggie smiled.

"I regret not being able to finish little Millie off."

Maggie let out a giggle, and Jerome laughed with her.

"Oh, _oh,_ Mags, I think I'm gonna like you."

Maggie's eyes glimmered at his words. She disappeared from her door and fished out another Jolly Rancher from her mattress.

"Of course you will," she said arrogantly, returning to her door. "I'm very likable. Candy?"

Maggie held up the green piece of candy before ducking out of Jerome's view. She sat the Jolly Rancher on the floor, right in front of her door. And with one swift flick of her finger, it shot under her door, across the hallway, and under Jerome's door. Jerome picked up the candy.

"Oooo, green," he said in an overly excited tone, giggling, and then, he looked back at Maggie and dropped his voice a few octaves. "My favorite."

He smiled. Jerome had a very nice smile. Maggie loved his smile. Maggie was envious of that smile.

"So, Mags," Jerome said, popping the candy into his mouth, "what's your brand of psychosis?"

Maggie bristled, not at the nickname — she quite liked "Mags;" it was derivative of her name, and lots of people used to call her that — but at his assumption that she was crazy.

"I'm not like the other loons in this joint," Maggie said, a twinge of bitterness in her voice. "I'm completely sane."

"Oh, no, of course you're not," Jerome insisted. "That's what makes you so interesting."

Maggie was confused about how to react. On the one hand, Jerome had called her crazy, but on the other, he had called her interesting. And oh how she did love compliments.

She decided to let it slide, opting to answer his question. She did, after all, love talking, especially about herself.

"The _doctor_ likes to say I have an antisocial personality disorder, which is just a fancy-pants way of calling me a sociopath. He also says I'm a narcissist," Maggie said. "Of course, he's wrong."

"Mm, and is that _all_ he says about you?" Jerome inquired.

"No, he says lots of things; the bastard never shuts up with all his labels and whatnot," Maggie said, waving her hand dismissively.

"I'm gonna guess impulse control issues," Jerome said, flashing Maggie his pearly white teeth.

"Why don't you choke on that Jolly Rancher," Maggie suggested through clenched teeth.

Jerome laughed, and Maggie frowned. She shook her head and disappeared from her door once again. She fell back onto her bed and stayed there. Jerome's laughter died down, and he frowned at her empty door window.

"Someone's a moody little bitch," he said in a low voice before laughing as though he'd said the funniest thing in the world.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole," Maggie said as he continued to laugh.

Maggie rolled her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling, her arms resting behind her head. She thought instead of Millie, as she often did. Maggie hated that her sister was still alive — not only _alive_ but living her life while _she —_ Maggie — was stuck in Arkham.

"I'm gonna get out one day," Maggie promised herself almost daily. "And I'm going to finish the job."

Maggie crunched down on the dwindling piece of candy in her mouth, fantasizing about killing Millie. But how would she do it? She'd thought of lots of ways over the past year; it was hard to decide.

"You could always scalp her, Maggie," Maggie said to herself. "Millie did always _hate_ when people touched her hair."

"But I did enjoy the feeling of strangling her," Maggie countered thoughtfully.

"True, but based on past experience, you should probably try a different method."

Maggie went back and forth for a while, and Jerome listened from across the hallway. His maniacal grin stayed in place as he heard her voicing her thoughts about killing her sister. Maggie was truly whacked in the head, and Jerome was happy to have such a neighbor. Hell, he could get off on her twisted monologues alone; she painted such a vivid picture sometimes.

"I have to say, I admire your ingenuity," Jerome said after he'd heard Maggie suggesting that she should cut off Millie's fingers and cram them all down Millie's throat, choking her to death.

Maggie had to smile at the compliment despite the ending to their earlier conversation. She loved having her ego stroked. It was almost erotic for her.

"Why thank you," she said in a sweet voice.

When Jerome stayed quiet after a that, her smile quickly disappeared. She was disappointed; she thought he'd say more. She racked her brain for something to keep the conversation going in hopes of more compliments.

"Tell me, Jerome, how'd you kill your mother?" Maggie asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

Jerome grinned, laying back on his own bed, one leg hanging casually over the edge.

"I took a hatchet, and I buried it into her skull. And when she went down, I just kept hitting her. It felt so... _liberating,_ you know?"

Maggie let out a giggle, and Jerome cocked an eyebrow.

"What's so funny, Maggie? C'mon, tell me. I do love a good joke," he said.

"You killed your mother with a hatchet; I killed my sister Mattie with an axe. It's just a _funny_ coincidence is all," Maggie said.

" _Ha!_ Now, ain't that a _riot!_ " Jerome said, slapping his thigh. "Didn't you just _love_ it?"

"It was thrilling," Maggie agreed. "And the _blood,_ " she added, closing her eyes and remembering it all vividly, "it was _everywhere._ "

Jerome smacked his lips together at her words, still grinning, _always_ grinning. Maggie lay back again and continued, getting lost in the memory.

"Did you ever taste someone's blood, Jerome?" she said, her voice suddenly becoming very breathy. She let out a small laugh. " _I_ have. Some of Mattie's blood actually got into my mouth."

Jerome listened intently, savoring every word.

"You know, once you get past the metallic taste — which isn't all that bad — it tastes sort of sweet and salty at the same time, kinda like salted caramel but only more watered down," she continued.

"And I know, logically, that I wasn't _supposed_ to like it," Maggie continued, laughing a bit.

"Well, you knew you weren't supposed to kill your sisters either, but still..." she added, and Jerome automatically knew that she wasn't talking to him anymore, and he just grinned.

Maggie went on like that for a little while before finally saying:

"But that doesn't mean I'm _crazy._ I mean, people do stuff they aren't supposed to all the time. Right, Jerome?"

Jerome was quiet for a moment, considering the girl across the corridor from him.

"Have you ever read _Alice in Wonderland,_ Maggie?" Jerome asked, breaking his silence.

"No," Maggie answered, confused at the question.

"You should read it; it's an interesting book," he told her. "There's a particular part where the Cheshire Cat tells Alice that she's mad, and he points out that she wouldn't be in Wonderland if she weren't."

"What are you getting at?" Maggie asked, making Jerome let out an abrupt laugh before dropping his voice once more to a sort of growl.

"I'm _saying_ that you're _obviously crazy,_ or you wouldn't be in Arkham, would you?"

Maggie shook her head.

"What do _you_ know? You're just some kid that killed his mommy. What'd she do? Not love you enough?" she bit out harshly.

"Now, now, _Mags,_ no need to get all _moody_ again," he said, drawing out his words. "That was a compliment."

"How do you figure?" Maggie said disdainfully.

"Oh, because _sanity_ is overrated, Mags. It stops people from seeing reality; it stops people from being _great,_ you know? _Sanity_ would have stopped you from hacking your dear sister to bits. _HA!_ " Maggie jumped at his loud laugh before he continued. "And _why,_ Maggie, _why_ did you kill her?""

"Because she deserved it," Maggie said automatically, like a mantra she'd rehearsed. "She and Millie were the reasons that I was miserable."

Jerome clapped his hands together at this.

"See, Mags, _sanity_ would have kept you a prisoner, kept you _miserable._ And who wants to be miserable when they can be _great?_ " Jerome said.

This all made Maggie's head hurt. Once again, he was calling her insane, but in doing so, he was also calling her _great._ Her ego didn't know what to make of it. _She_ didn't know what to make of _him._

"You're quite an odd character," Maggie said.

"Well, Mags, I'll tell you what the Cat told Alice: 'We're _all_ mad here.'"

Once again, Jerome fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and Maggie lay quietly, mulling over what he'd said.


	3. Chapter 3

When breakfast finally rolled around, the guards came to let the inmates out of their cells. Maggie gave the guard unlocking her door a charming smile, and he smiled back, opening her door for her.

"Daniel!" she exclaimed in a voice that was far too excited and sweet sounding. "Where _have_ you been? I haven't seen you for days!"

Daniel smiled even brighter at her excited tone.

"My mom was sick; I had to take a few days off work."

"Well, you're just the guy I wanted to see," Maggie told him, stepping out into the hall as Daniel unlocked Jerome's cell. "I need a favor."

Daniel was a rookie guard that had been working at Arkham for a little over two months. He was only a couple of years older than Maggie and quite handsome. When he had first arrived, Maggie had immediately shown interest in him — she liked new things. He proved to be very naïve and, therefore, easy to manipulate, and Maggie had found out rather quickly that he could get her things in exchange for _certain favors._ Hell, sometimes he'd just get her things without her having to do anything in return. He was a nice kid, and that made him far easier to deal with than Sionis.

"What? More candy?" Daniel asked with a grin, opening Jerome's door.

"Not exactly," Maggie answered, looking Jerome up and down; it was the first time she'd seen him without a caged window between them. She decided that he was worth keeping around, if only for his looks. She turned back to Daniel and continued. "I need a book."

"There are books in the break room," Daniel told her.

"Yeah, about _seven,_ and they're all written by doctors," Maggie pointed out. "I want a different one."

"Which one?"

 _"_ _Alice in Wonderland,"_ Maggie said as she walked down the corridor with Daniel and the other inmates.

Jerome, who was walking behind her, tilted his head to the side, and Maggie turned her head to flash him a grin.

"I'll see what I can do," Daniel said, and Maggie clapped gleefully.

They all stopped walking as Daniel unlocked some more doors, and Maggie caught Jerome staring at her, a grin plastered on his face.

"What?" she asked.

"You and the guard," he stated.

Maggie glanced at Daniel, but he wasn't paying attention to her as there were now a couple of new inmates in between them.

"Yeah, what about it?" she asked.

Jerome shrugged as the line moved forward, only to stop again after a few yards distance.

"I just didn't peg you for the type to have _boyfriends._ "

Maggie frowned, not sure what he meant by that statement.

"I've had boyfriends," she defended. "I never kept them very long because they all bored me eventually, but I've had _plenty_ of them — girlfriends too. But besides, as gorgeous as sweet Daniel is, he's not my boyfriend; he's really just a means to an end, like _most_ people are."

Jerome let out a laugh, and a few people stared.

"I _knew_ I'd like you, Mags," he said.

Maggie smiled, and as the line moved forward, Jerome's eyes traveled down her backside as the striped skirt of her Arkham dress swayed as she walked. She stood a good ten inches shorter than him, and he tried to imagine her petite form axing her sister to death, possibly with a grin on her face. His spine tingled at the mental image, and he grinned.

"So, Jerome, since you're new around these parts, I'll be showing you around, acquainting you with the other inmates — blah, blah, blah…" Maggie said as they all rounded a corner in the corridor, bringing the cafeteria into view.

"So you're the _welcome committee?_ " Jerome asked, watching her red hair as she tossed it over her shoulder with a flick of her hand.

"Only for the attractive ones," she said in a very nonchalant voice.

Jerome didn't have time to reply before they were all led, single-file, into the cafeteria.

"Hey, Joey," Maggie said to one of the cooks, rudely pushing her way to the front of the breakfast line. "What's on the menu?"

Joey plopped something grayish onto a tray and pushed it towards Maggie. She looked down at it in disgust. She held out her hand.

"I'd like an apple," she said. "I'm not a big fan of… What's this supposed to be anyhow? Rotted oatmeal maybe? I never could figure that out. It just appears every other Thursday at breakfast time."

"And every other Thursday, you ask for an apple," Joey said in a bored tone. "And every other Thursday, I tell you, 'No.'"

Maggie smiled.

"Yes, but I've learned some valuable information since last time," she said, leaning forward a bit. "Wanna know what it is?"

"Move along, Inmate," Joey said, clearly not interested.

Maggie stood up a little straighter, frowning.

"Fine," she said. "I guess I'll just have to tell someone else what I know… Perhaps, the _Director_ would like to hear how you've been selling hallucinogenic drugs to some of the inmates."

Maggie shrugged and made to turn away.

"Wait," Joey said, and she smiled as he disappeared.

He reappeared moments later with a bright red apple, and Maggie grinned gleefully. She took it and pushed the tray of gray stuff back to him.

"You can keep that," she said.

"You're gonna keep your mouth shut, right?" Joey asked.

"Of course," Maggie said, biting into the apple before walking away and taking a seat at a table.

Minutes later, she was joined by Jerome, who dropped his tray of gray mush onto the table with a loud clatter. Maggie only continued munching away at her apple.

"You couldn't have gotten _me_ one of _those?_ " Jerome said, his voice jumping octaves as he spoke like it frequently did.

Maggie looked to his food tray and then to him before taking another, rather large, bite from her apple. She chewed silently and swallowed.

"Oh, I _could have,_ but what would you do for me if I did?" she asked.

Jerome laughed, shaking his head.

"I've been trying to get dirt on one of the cooks since I've been in here," Maggie said. "Hmm, maybe I can get them to turn Meatloaf Night into Taco Night. No one here likes the meatloaf anyway, or at least, _I_ don't."

"Didn't you say that you, uh, would introduce me to people?" Jerome reminded her.

"Oh, right," Maggie said, remembering her earlier statement because she had quite forgotten it completely.

As if on cue, Richard Sionis sat down across the table from the two teens. His tray didn't have gray mush on it; he had pancakes. He eyed the apple in Maggie's hand.

"Gotta try harder, Rubera," he told her.

"We can't all pay off the cooks, Sionis," Maggie told him. "Besides, I quite like apples." She turned to Jerome. "This is Richard Sionis; he basically runs the joint. Be nice to him; he's a good friend to have."

"Flattery from Maggie Rubera?" Sionis said. "She must want something."

"Can you get me off dishwasher duty this week?"

"Maybe," Sionis told her. "What's in it for me?"

Jerome listened to Maggie haggle with Sionis. He quickly learned two things about her: she was good with words, and she wasn't shy about offering sexual favors to get her way. Sionis didn't take to the latter — something about Maggie being too young for his liking and blah, blah, blah. Finally, however, she came to a good offer.

"You know the guard that you can't pay off because of his High-and-Mighty moral compass?" Maggie asked. "What if I told you that I could get him out of your hair?"

Sionis looked at her skeptically.

"How?"

"You just leave that to me," she said. "But if I manage it — and I _will,_ of course — I expect to never have to wash dishes in this dump again."

"Deal."

"Of course, I'm gonna need some assistance," she said, eyeing Jerome, who only cocked his head curiously at her.

"Wanna help a girl out?" she said to him; Jerome grinned.

 _"_ _You,"_ Maggie said, turning to a big man to her right. "Aaron, right?" she asked; the big man nodded. "You see that guard over there?" she asked, pointing to Daniel, who happened to be the guard supervising breakfast time. "I heard — well…" Maggie sat up taller to whisper in Aaron's ear.

Jerome couldn't hear what she said, but whatever it was made the man very angry. He jumped up and stalked towards the guard. Maggie sighed.

"Poor, sweet Daniel…" she said, but she just shrugged. "Oh, well. We don't have much time. Follow me, Jerome."

"Much time for what?"

As soon as he'd said it, a commotion broke out. Inmates were on their feet, cheering and yelling as Aaron suddenly attacked Daniel. Maggie took no interest in it; she only pulled Jerome away from the table and towards the back of the cafeteria, out of the security camera's line of vision.

"You're _bad,_ " he told her, grinning maniacally.

"Yeah, yeah," Maggie said dismissively. "Hit me."

Jerome gave her a confused look as she patted her face lightly. She rolled her eyes at his dumbfounded look.

"C'mon, we don't have all day. That fight's not gonna last forever. Now, hit me, and leave some good marks," she said impatiently.

"Why?"

"You'll find out. Just do it already. And don't give me any bullshit about not wanting to hit me because I'm a g—"

Maggie was cut off by Jerome's fist connecting with her jaw. She was startled at first, but she gathered herself quickly, rubbing her stinging face.

"Dude, you hit like an eight-grader," she provoked.

So Jerome reared back and hit her again. This time, when she looked back up at him, she spat some blood onto the floor; some blood was even trickling out of her nose. And then, she did something that Jerome found quite enjoyable:

She laughed.

"Again," she breathed, so Jerome did as she asked, hitting her another time, which made her laugh harder.

"Again," she repeated, smiling, and once more, Jerome hit her hard.

This time, Maggie stumbled back, feeling very dizzy, but she still laughed, grabbing out for Jerome to steady herself. Then, more guards marched into he cafeteria, breaking up the brawl that plenty of inmates had joined in on by now, Maggie smiled up at Jerome in a masochistic sort of way, her white teeth stained red with blood.

And without a second thought, because Maggie often did whatever she wanted without thinking about it, she stood on tiptoes, wrapped one arm around Jerome's head, tangling her fingers in his hair, and kissed him full on the lips. But before Jerome could even register what was happening, Maggie pulled away, ruffling his red hair.

"Well, that was fun," she told him. "Let's do it again sometime."

And with that, she walked back to her table, leaving a very confused, and slightly aroused, Jerome staring into space. He licked some of Maggie's blood off of his lips. She had been right — it was salty and sweet. Jerome didn't know what her crazy plan was, but he had a feeling that he was going to _love_ finding out.

* * *

"You know, _Mags,_ " Jerome told her as they were being led back to their cells, "I think you almost killed your boyfriend."

Maggie shrugged as she walked with her head down, keeping her face hidden from the cameras in the hall.

"He'll live. And I _told_ you already; he's _not_ my boyfriend," she said. "It's a bummer that I'm gonna have to wait for him to get out of the hospital to get that book though. Oh, well."

Maggie peaked up at the guard who was leading them back to their cells. His name was Steven — or was it Steve? She couldn't remember, and quite frankly, she didn't care. All that mattered was that _he_ was her target, and if everything went according to plan, he'd be out of a job soon.

Jerome and Maggie were the last two inmates with him — a lot of inmates from their wing were now in solitary because of the cafeteria fight. The guard — who was, coincidentally, the same guard that had checked Maggie's room for contraband that day — locked Jerome in his cell first. Jerome watched from the window in his door to see what was about to happen.

The guard opened Maggie's cell, and she stepped inside. She smiled.

"Guard, before you go, I wanted to tell you that I _do_ have some contraband in my room that you missed earlier," she said.

The guard eyed her warily, but he did just as Maggie had wanted and stepped into her cell where the cameras could not see him.

For a moment, he was silent. Maggie still hadn't turned to face him yet, and he got impatient.

"Well, Inmate, you gonna show me where it is, or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?" the guard asked.

"I prefer the hard way," Maggie said, finally looking at him with her busted lip and bruised face.

"What happened to _you?_ " he asked curiously.

" _You_ happened," she replied with a smile.

Before the guard could react, Maggie clawed the side of his face, breaking the skin and drawing blood. The guard then hit her in the gut with his nightstick and quickly stepped out of her cell, locking her in.

"You're lucky I don't put your ass in solitary confinement for that, you crazy bitch," he said, wiping blood from his cheek.

Maggie watched him walk away and smiled.

"You're gonna wish you had, sweetheart," she whispered to herself before looking up at Jerome, who was positively beaming.

* * *

The next time Maggie was let out of her cell, it was so that she could go see her psychiatrist, Dr. Wellburn. She walked silently into his office, her head down, red hair shielding her face. She had a timid look about her. She was a very good actress.

"Hello, Margaret," Wellburn said as she took a seat in front of his desk.

"Hi," she muttered quietly; Wellburn frowned.

"Is something wrong, Margaret?" he asked suspiciously.

"N-no, I'm fine."

"Look at me," he told her. She kept her head down. _"Margaret."_

She raised her head slowly, revealing her battered face to him. Wellburn was shocked.

"Good lord, child! What happened to you?"

"Nothing," she said quietly. "I, um— It was just the cafeteria fight…"

Wellburn frowned harder, pushing his glasses further up his long, pointed nose.

"Now, Margaret, I can tell you aren't being truthful," he told her.

At his words, Maggie suddenly broke down, bursting into tears.

"I can't!" she bawled. "He said he'd kill me if I told."

"Who?"

Maggie wanted to smile, but she didn't. Instead, she kept crying her fake tears and shook her head.

"You won't believe me. He said no one would believe me because I'm just an inmate, and then, he said he'd kill me."

"Margaret, you need to tell me who did this right now."

Maggie sniffled and cried, and after some coaxing from Dr. Wellburn, she finally said in a shaky voice:

"A guard. St-Steve or-or something."

"Steven Blanders?"

"Yes," Maggie said, screwing up her face and bawling again.

"Why?"

"I-I don't know. I think he was mad at me because I said something to him this morning."

"Like what?" Dr. Wellburn asked, picking up his office phone and dialing a number.

"I just called him a baboon, and I know I shouldn't have, but I didn't think— I didn't think it'd make him so angry."

Wellburn nodded, and whoever he was calling picked up.

"Hello, yes, this is Dr. Wellburn. I need the Director to come to my office immediately…And get Officer Blanders down here as well…Thank you."

"I kept begging him to stop," Maggie continued when he hung up the phone. "I think I even scratched him, but he's so much bigger than me, and I couldn't stop him."

By the time Steven had entered Wellburn's office, the Director was already there. And Maggie had already told him her concocted story about how after breakfast, Steven had come into her room and beat her.

"Sit down," the Director ordered Steven, who looked very confused; again, Maggie had to stop herself from smiling.

"I'm gonna get straight to the point," the Director said. "Did you do this?" he asked, pointing to Maggie's face.

"What? No!" Steven said, starting to rise out of his seat. Maggie timidly flinched at his sudden movement enough for the Director and Dr. Wellburn to notice.

"Sit. Down," the Director barked; Steven obeyed. "What happen to your face, Officer?"

"She scratched me."

"And why would she do that?" Wellburn asked.

"I don't know! She just attacked me! She's crazy!"

"He's _lying!_ " Maggie cried. "He came into my room, and he started hitting me!"

"What?!" Steven roared. "No, I didn't!"

"Did you go into her cell?" the Director asked.

"Yes! He did! You can check the hallway cameras!" Maggie cried before Steven could answer.

"Thank you, Miss Rubera," the Director said, silencing her before turning back to the guard. _"Well?"_

"Yes, but—"

"Officers are not allowed inside an inmate's cell unless there is another guard present. I trust you _knew that?_ " the Director said.

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then _why_ did you go against policy and enter Miss Rubera's cell?"

"She-she said something about having contraband in her room. I was just—"

"No, I didn't," Maggie cried. "Why would I tell him that? He'd already searched my room. He _knows_ I don't have anything I'm not supposed to!"

"Look, I don't care _what_ she tells you. I did _not_ touch her!"

Maggie sniffled and muttered something incomprehensible.

"What was that, Margaret?" Wellburn asked.

"Th-the new guy across the hall from me — I-I think his name's Jerome — he saw the whole thing."

The Director's frown deepened, and Wellburn was already on the phone again — no doubt to get Jerome to his office. And when no one was looking, Maggie bowed her head, smiling devilishly.


	4. Chapter 4

Officer Steven Blanders was gone by the next day — fired or transferred, it didn't really matter which. All that mattered was that he was no longer in Arkham, and Maggie never had to wash dishes again. Sionis even threw in that copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ that she had wanted since it didn't seem like Daniel would be returning any time soon.

It was nice — Maggie thought — being a teenage girl. She was aware that that had been one of her strong points in her case against Steven. It didn't matter that she was an inmate in an asylum. It didn't matter that, only a year earlier, she had killed her sister in cold blood with no signs of remorse. It didn't matter that she was a diagnosed sociopath with a narcissistic personality disorder. All of that stuff didn't matter because no matter _what_ kind of monster someone is, if said person is disguised as a small, teenage girl, _someone_ is always, _always_ going to view her as frail and innocent.

The other thing Maggie's case had hinged on was Jerome's testimony corroborating her side of the story. Jerome, as Maggie had figured out, was quite the actor himself. He had looked very much like an ordinary eighteen-year-old boy, quiet and nowhere near as animated as Maggie knew him to be. However, her performance had been the star of the show. If there was one thing Maggie hated, it was having her spotlight stolen. And with someone like Jerome around, it was bound to happen eventually.

Maggie now sat in the break room, reading her new book. Every now and then, she'd look up at Jerome, who occasionally barked with laughter. For some reason, she didn't find the laugh interesting anymore; it now annoyed her… Well, when it was just the two of them, it didn't, but _there,_ around her little group of Sionis and Greenwood — that Jerome had settled into quite nicely — it made her want to stab him in the throat.

She was aware of her jealousy (though she would never admit to it out loud). It was usually _her_ smiling brightly and talking nonstop and squabbling with Greenwood about petty things. _She_ was usually the shining star of their little group. But then Jerome had happened, and she was a bit miffed because they seemed to like him a lot. Then, there was the fact that _he_ wasn't paying attention to her. It was as if she'd gotten a new puppy that liked others more so than herself, and Maggie hated it; Jerome _was,_ after all, the shiny new toy in Arkham, and Maggie despised sharing.

After a while of her uncharacteristic silence, Greenwood finally spoke to her.

"Why so quiet today, Maggie?"

Maggie, though still slightly annoyed, smiled at the sudden recognition. She closed her book, sitting it down on the table.

"What's the point in talking? Jerome's talking enough for all of us," she spat out.

Jerome, who was sitting beside her, rolled his head in a dramatic way to look at her. A sly grin spread across his face as he stared at her with hooded eyes. She gave him a big, sarcastic smile, her still busted lip stinging from the effort.

" _Someone's_ angry because they aren't the center of attention," Sionis remarked, sketching away on his notepad; Maggie cut her eyes at him.

"That's not true at all," she lied. "Why, I'm merely listening to Jerome's _fascinating_ tales of circus freaks and his whore of a mother. Tell me, Jerome, does your daddy drive a little clown car to work?"

Jerome's eyes glinted with danger as he spoke.

"Now, now, Maggie, why so _rude?_ After all, I _did_ help you with your little _scheme_ yesterday."

"Oh, sweetheart, don't kid yourself," she said, and Jerome put his elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand, still smiling. "I could have easily gone through with my plan without you. You were merely an opportune choice. A _monkey_ could have done what you did."

"I highly _doubt_ that a _monkey_ could have put such a smile on your face yesterday," he growled. "And I feel _certain_ that you wouldn't have, uh, _kissed_ it."

Maggie frowned at him. Then, she leaned closer to him, their faces only mere inches apart.

" _Bite me,_ Jerome," she said harshly, causing his eyes to glint as he licked his smiling lips; he, too, leaned closer.

"Is that an _offer,_ Mags?"

Maggie smiled, reveling in the sudden flirtatious turn of the conversation. She batted her eyelashes at him.

 _"_ _Maybe,"_ she said, drawing out the word.

"Oh, get a room, you two," Greenwood said.

The two teens looked at him with slightly annoyed faces as he tried to spoil their fun. And as quickly as their flirtations had started, they ended as Greenwood took charge of the conversation. Maggie only listened half-heartedly as her attention was still on the red-headed boy beside her. She suddenly removed her hands from the table and placed one on Jerome's thigh, digging her nails into his leg as she squeezed.

Jerome only turned his head slightly towards her. Maggie continued staring at Greenwood, but she had a devious smile plastered on her bruised, freckled face. Jerome grabbed her small wrist with a vice-like grip, digging his own nails into her soft flesh. For a moment, Maggie thought that he'd remove her hand, but he didn't. Instead, he moved her hand slowly up his leg, her nails dragging along the striped fabric of his pants.

However, Maggie, always needing to be in control of a situation, suddenly let go as her hand neared the apex of his leg. She pulled her wrist out of his grip and clasped her hands together, placing them under her chin, her elbows now propped on the table. She stared forward, feigning sudden interest in Greenwood's story. Jerome gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw ticking, but he said nothing.

Maggie quickly injected herself into Greenwood's monologue, disagreeing with him about something trivial, causing an argument between the two. Jerome frowned at her as she spoke loudly over Greenwood in her signature I'm-better-than-you voice. Maggie, however, smiled, as things were now back to normal, and she was once more at the center of the conversation.

Dinner wasn't long after that, and they were all marched to the cafeteria where Maggie stared down the cook, Joey, until he gave her a little extra lasagna on her tray. There were some questionable foods at Arkham — like the gray mush from yesterday's breakfast, and it was a general rule to not _ever_ eat the tuna salad — but for the most part, the food wasn't half bad. Maggie especially loved the lasagna.

Jerome took a seat across the table from her and stared at her. Maggie took no notice; she was busy scraping off the burnt edge of her garlic toast, the blackened crumbs falling onto the table. Jerome slammed his fist down on the table. He grinned when she jumped a bit, dropping her toast onto her tray. She looked up at him.

"What?" she snapped.

"You're a _tease,_ Margaret Rubera," he said, his grin not leaving; Maggie smirked.

"It's only teasing if you liked it," she said. Then, she leaned forward slightly and dropped her voice down to an amused whisper. "Did you like it, Jerome?"

He let out a sort of growl in response, and Maggie continued.

"Or did you like what we did yesterday better?" she asked, slipping off one of her no-lace shoes and slowly running her foot up one of Jerome's legs. "That was _fun_ wasn't it? There's something _exciting_ about hurting someone, isn't there? And I'm not just talking about this," she said, gesturing to her bruised face. "I'm talking about the whole scheme. There's something kinda like a _power rush,_ you know? There's nothing more satisfying than outsmarting someone — knowing that you can _crush_ someone with just some fake tears and good acting."

Jerome, who was growing quite bored of her little act, reached under the table and grabbed Maggie's ankle as her foot neared his knee. He gave it a violent tug. Maggie yelped as she almost fell out of her seat. She yanked her ankle away and glared at him, her green eyes sparking with anger as Jerome laughed.

"What was that for?" she spat.

"For being a tease," he said slowly, his face splitting into a wide grin.

Maggie huffed angrily just as Greenwood sat down beside her. He wasted no time shoveling his food into his mouth. He looked at Maggie, who was still glaring at Jerome, who was still smiling sadistically. Greenwood chuckled.

"Did Jerome make you mad _already,_ Maggie?" he poked fun. "Why am I not surprised?"

Maggie, who was angry and had no patience for Greenwood's antics, slowly turned to him.

"Shut. Up," she seethed.

"What'd he do? Forget to tell you how _pretty_ you are?" he continued to tease.

"I'm warning you, Greenwood. I am not in the mood," she said.

Greenwood rolled his eyes at her, making her even more livid.

"Oooo, I'm shaking in my boots," Greenwood said sarcastically.

Maggie slowly curled her fingers around her fork; Greenwood turned to Jerome, who was watching them both curiously as though waiting for something exciting to happen. It was if he could already see Maggie's inevitable snap.

"You have to be _delicate_ with this one," Greenwood said, grinning. "She's easily offended. She's a narcissist, so you have to give her lots of attention so she doesn't feel rejected. She _hates_ that; don'tcha, Maggie?"

Out of anger, Maggie stood, picked her fork up off the table, and plunged the metal prongs into Greenwood's left hand that was resting beside his food tray. Jerome's eyes sparkled with glee. Greenwood howled in pain, and Maggie gave a twisted grin.

"I said to _shut up,_ " she said slowly.

It wasn't long before guards got to her, dragging her out of the cafeteria as Jerome let out his maniacal laugh.

* * *

Forty-eight hours — two days in solitary confinement — that was her punishment. That _and_ she was now on the list of inmates that had to eat their meals with one of those damned plastic sporks.

Maggie didn't mind solitary confinement. Would she rather _not_ have been there? Yes. Did she _hate_ it? No. After all, she had her favorite person to talk to — herself. Mostly, she spent her time thinking about two things: Millie (as she always did) and Jerome, who she quite liked and hated at the same time.

"What's the big deal, Maggie?" she had asked herself.

"The _big deal_ is I don't know whether I wanna fuck him or kill him," she had replied.

And this was quite the dilemma for her. On the one hand, she wanted him to want her. She wanted the gratification she would get from feeling his strong hands on her body, pulling her close to him as though he couldn't get enough of her. After all, as stated before, Jerome was the shiny new toy. And what use was he to Maggie if she didn't play with him?

But then there was the other hand. He was nice to be around when it was just the two of them and no one else. However, out with the others, Jerome was stealing her thunder. Seventeen years of having to share the spotlight with her sisters did not make Maggie a fan of having to repeat the cycle with Jerome for who knew how long.

"You could always fuck him _and_ kill him," she had finally suggested to herself.

Maggie had been thinking on this when the door of her little, padded cell opened.

"Oh, thank god!" she said to the guards, sitting up from her spot on the floor. "I've had this itch on my nose for, like, fifteen minutes now, and this damned straight jacket is killing me."

The guards got Maggie out of the straight jacket and took her directly to the showers. She wasn't exactly sure what time it was — she knew dinner had already been served and that the inmates were probably all in their cells because she had the showers to herself. She frowned down at her towel and little bottles of shampoo and soap she'd gotten from the lady in charge of all the toiletries. She vaguely wondered when she'd be allowed to have a razor again — last time she'd been to solitary, she didn't get to shave again for a whole month afterwards. Then again, _last time,_ she had attacked a guard. Maybe they'd be more lenient this time. After all, she had only stabbed _Greenwood_ and only in the _hand._

Maggie stepped under the running water of the shower. She frowned — it was cold; the inmates before her had used up all the hot water.

"Now, see? This is why I always take my showers early," Maggie said, ranting about her predicament.

"Oh, be quiet. At least you're actually getting clean."

"True," she agreed with herself. In solitary, the only time an inmate was let out was twice a day: once in the morning and once in the evening to go to the bathroom. The guards brought food to the cells, and once the inmate was does eating, the straight jacket went back on. _Showers_ were definitely not a luxury one got in solitary confinement at Arkham Asylum.

Maggie shivered under the cool water as she massaged the shampoo into her hair; she could feel her already prickly leg hairs growing. She sighed and closed her eyes, rinsing the suds out of her hair. She ran one hand down her abdomen, fingers circling a scar about two inches under her left ribcage. She smiled, remembering the fight she'd gotten it from — her first prison fight. The girl, who had happened to be her cellmate, had stabbed Maggie with a shank made out of a toothbrush, of all things. When Maggie had gotten out of the infirmary, she'd made a show of breaking all of her cellmate's fingers — it had been fun.

"Maybe that's what I'll do to Jerome," she mused aloud. "He has such nice hands."

She let out a small laugh.

"But imagine what he'd do to _you_ if you did such a thing," she countered.

She snapped her eyes open, but it wasn't fear that flashed in them — it was curiosity; it was excitement.

"Yes, _imagine,_ " she said, and she was smiling, her mind going back to more sexual desires.

Then again, sex and pain — it all elicited the same responses in her: excitement and a rush of adrenaline. She suddenly wondered if other people felt the same way. However, it was very short lived as she realized that she didn't much care what other people felt.

* * *

Jerome was still awake when Maggie's voice sounded through the hall, vibrant and loud as ever. He grinned. He had missed her. For two days now, he'd had no one to talk to during the time he was locked in his cell, which was pretty dull. Also, now, Greenwood could finally shut up about what he planned on doing to the girl and actually just get on with it; though, Jerome had a sneaking suspicion that Greenwood wouldn't actually do anything.

Jerome was sure that Maggie would be thrilled to find out that, even in her absence, Greenwood had made most of their conversations revolve around her. It had irked Jerome a little bit. And that was exactly why he wasn't going to tell her. Why let her gain satisfaction from something that he disliked?

Jerome grinned wider when he heard Maggie's guard tell her to shut up, but she just kept talking to him about something unimportant. Jerome imagined that she was only doing this to annoy the guard. Moments later, her cell was being opened, and only when the guard walked away did silence fall over the corridor.

Maggie lay awake on her bed, staring into the darkness of her cell, not tired one bit.

"Great," she said in an annoyed voice. "My sleep schedule's all whacked."

"What a coincidence. _I_ can't sleep either."

Maggie smiled as Jerome's voice floated across the hallway.

"Ah, Jerome," she said happily. "Miss me?"

"Why, of course, Mags," he said, letting her hear what she wanted. "It hasn't been the same without you."

Maggie closed her eyes, and her grin spread further.

"How's Greenwood's hand?" she asked. "Still hurting him, I hope?"

Jerome chuckled.

"Now, _Maggie,_ that wasn't very _nice_ of you, stabbing Greenwood in the hand like that."

"He's lucky it was his hand and not his eye," Maggie stated. "In fact, _you're_ lucky the guards got to me so fast."

"Is that so?" Jerome asked, smiling in amusement.

"Yes, the next utensil would have gone in your neck," she said, knowing that he would love such talk. "After all, _you're_ the one that got me so worked up to begin with."

 _"_ _Me?"_ Jerome said, feigning surprise and gesturing to himself dramatically even though she couldn't see him. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about."

Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Play dumb. What do I care? But, Jerome, a word to the wise: making me mad isn't something you want to make a habit out of — just ask my sisters," Maggie said with a little laugh.

"Planning on _killing_ me, Mags?" Jerome asked in a nonchalant tone, as if he had just asked about the weather.

"I admit, the thought occurred to me," Maggie said. "Killing you would be so much more fun than listening to you rattle on and on about this and that and whatever."

Jerome bared his teeth in a devious grin.

"My, _my,_ you _are_ the _jealous_ type, aren't you? Can't stand it when people aren't looking _your way._ "

"Jealous of _you?_ No," she said, twirling her hair around her finger in thought. "You're just the new kid. You'll shine bright for a little bit, but after a while, you'll burn out."

"Is that so?" he asked in a low growl.

"Either that or someone will _put_ you out."

Jerome cackled, and Maggie smiled.

"And is that _somebody_ going to be _you,_ Maggie? Oh, please, tell me it is."

"I don't know; it could be _anybody._ But for now, I've decided that I still like you; you're easy on the eyes. Plus, you're not as stupid as everyone else."

Jerome smiled, but he didn't say anything. He knew that was Maggie's way of saying she found him interesting — that she still had some use for him. He knew the only person Maggie _really_ liked — really cared for — was herself. And some part of him really liked that about her. She had potential, just like him.


End file.
